


Refocus

by darklycomic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Chilton is a terrible surgeon, M/M, Medical School, Stripping, pre-Hannibal, sassmaster Chilton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklycomic/pseuds/darklycomic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick Chilton is a student at medical school in the mid '90s when he meets Elliot Baldwin, a student whose secretive tendencies only add to Chilton's curiosity about him. When Chilton finds Baldwin working multiple jobs (including an embarrassing stint as a male stripper) to pay his way through medical school, the two begin an unlikely relationship -- the outcome of which will test both men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refocus

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I positioned my hands above the head. I’d never done this before – not like this, at least.

_Control your breathing, Frederick. You’re good. So good. You can do this._

“Don’t take all day, now, Frederick,” said the professor. “Just go for it. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

I chuckled nervously, reaching out to gingerly touch the head. Gathering myself, I positioned my tool and, taking my professor’s word for it, I went for it.

_Crrrrack!_

The room explodes into laughter.

I turned around in horror to look at my classmates, who were all intently watching the cockiest med student in the class royally fail the world’s easiest task – breaking the nose on a model head for a practice rhinoplasty. Instead of just breaking the nose, I’d put the chisel through it, turning some poor dead woman’s head into a deformed unicorn-human hybrid.

I paled to a sickly white. I felt like I was going to throw up.

How. Embarrassing.

Dr. Werner sighed heavily. “I suppose that’s it for today. I mean, we don’t exactly have another head… we’ll let out early,” the professor said, glancing over at me. I had turned my back to the lecture hall and was trying desperately to get my chisel out of the corpse head. “Frederick… that’s enough.”

“Yes, sir,” I said quietly, leaving my chisel sticking halfway out of the head.

I looked out over the lecture hall in time to catch a glimpse of the one person in the class who always left the fastest doing exactly what he did best – leaving. No one really knew him since he left so quickly and spoke to virtually none of us.

There was one time he asked me for a pencil, though.

He was a good-looking young man – brown hair, light eyes, fair-skinned, a chiseled jaw, … I think his name started with an ‘E’. I wasn’t sure.

I stepped down off the stage of the lecture hall with my tail between my legs, so to speak.

“Nice going, Chilton.”

“Thanks for making the rest of us look good, Fred!”

As the rest of the class filed out of the lecture hall, I found my mental footing again and managed to step down off the stage to go gather my things from my seat.

“We’ll try that again next week, Frederick, yes?” Dr. Werner called after me. I nodded feebly before hurrying out.

I wasn’t even out the door completely when I felt a hand grasp my arm and pull me to the side. I let out a miniscule yelp before finding myself face to face with a classmate of mine, Vivien Fabré, who was grinning from ear to ear, her strawberry blond curls bouncing with the same effervescence as her personality.

“Freddy! I absolutely must speak with you!” she exclaimed, giving my forearm a little squeeze.

“Please don’t call me that…” I grumbled. ‘Freddy’ was a nickname I attempted to drop towards the end of high school. It obviously hadn’t worked, seeing as people were proving to be either too lazy or too inconsiderate to switch to what I thought was a more professional-sounding version of my name, ‘Frederick’.

“Of course. Sorry. Frederick.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“I really need to get back to my apartment, Vivien… Can it wait?”

Vivien pouted and put her hands on her hips. “I needed to ask a small favor. Just a teensy, tiny, itty bitty one. It’s urgent.”

“Urgent?”

“God, that echo! Are we in a cave? Yes. Urgent.”

I readjusted my grip on my briefcase and shot her one of my famous “don’t get smart with me” looks.

“Okay, okay…” Vivien griped. Her demeanor immediately shifted, her smile turning coy and flirtatious. This was no small favor she was about to lay on me. “Alana and I were getting a few of the girls together for our friend’s bachelorette party tonight and our reservation with the limousine service got double booked and we really need a car…”

I stiffened, my face somewhere between disgust and doubt. “You must be joking.”

“I’m not asking you to give up your car for the night – unless you wouldn’t mind, I mean – what I’m asking is if you wouldn’t mind being our chauffeur for the night.” Vivien flashed me a “pretty please with sugar on top” smile. “We’ll be super well-behaved –“

“Yes, because obviously that’s supposed to quell my fears that I’ll be cleaning sorority girl vomit out of my Jaguar the next morning,” I spat, annoyed. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Oh, come on, Frederick! You’re such a stick in the mud,” Vivien retorted, pouting. The thought must have occurred to her at that very moment, though, because the next words out of her mouth were: “I never told anyone about when I bought Playboy and Playgirl magazine for you. That can change.”

“You’re blackmailing me?” I nearly exclaimed in disbelief. I’m sure if my shoulders could have tightened any further, they would have.

“You bet your sweet ass. I’m a desperate woman.”

I pinched my sinuses. _Dear God what did I do to deserve a day like this…_ “Where, may I ask, am I chauffeuring you desperate women to?”

Vivien broke into a gleeful grin and clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Freddy! I knew you’d come through!”

“Did I ever have a choice in the matter?” I asked dismally.

“No, not really. Anyway, we’re just going to this little… um… well, it’s a strip club. A male strip club called Blue Heaven.”

I sighed deeply. “Of course you are.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

Driving around three horny young women was not how I wanted to spend my evening. Especially when one of them was Alana Bloom.

Alana wanted nothing to do with me – I wasn’t her type, she’d notably informed me when I had asked her out a year earlier. It didn’t seem as if that had changed any, either. We had all of one class together and we spent it avoiding each other. I presume we both came to the same conclusion that just not speaking at all was the safest bet after the rejection.

“We’re here,” I grumbled, my tone feigning excitement. “I assume I’ll just wait here in the parking lot until you ladies have had your fill.”

“You presume wrong, Frederick,” Vivien laughed. “You’re coming with us – we couldn’t just leave you alone in the car all night! How depressing is that?”

“No! No, no, no, no. I’m not – there is no way I’m going into a strip club. That’s ridiculous! I brought my class notes. I intend to study in the car all night.”

Cut to me being physically dragged into Blue Heaven.

As what she referred to as “payment”, Vivien paid my entrance fee of ten dollars and linked her arm in mine, her vice-like grip preventing me from leaving.

Eventually, through a grimace, I accepted my fate for the night, realizing there was no plausible way the girls were going to let me leave their sight tonight.

The interior of Blue Heaven strayed from its name. I had been imagining heaven imagery and angel themes, or at least blue lighting; none of that held true. Blue Heaven’s interior was a classic stripper den, with pink, purple, and red tones everywhere to suggest lust and passion. Some of the male dancers grinded against gold stripper poles, while others did the same against patrons. The smell of sweat, perfume, and alcohol pervaded the air, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the owners had suggested that testosterone be pumped through the air vents. Granted, there were male patrons scattered among the gaggles of giggling, aroused females, but this place was most definitely meant to be a woman’s fantasyland. I felt like I was intruding.

“You all go sit down – I’m going to go get us some cosmos,” Vivien said, pointing to the bar where bartenders in Chippendales outfits were serving drinks. There had to be some sort of legal issues with making them wear that stuff when they weren’t actually Chippendales dancers – not that any of the women seemed to be complaining. In any case, the women and I went to sit in some very plush seats at a table.

We had been sitting and laughing over drinks (though, as designated driver, I limited myself to one) for a few hours before it happened: I saw him.

That guy from my class – shirtless and undulating his hips in front of a group of women who were feeding singles into his pants like they were starving and he was a vending machine – but it was definitely him. I knew for sure as soon as I saw him.

And he saw me, too. The second we locked gazes, once he had finished dancing for the women at the table across the room, his eyes had widened slightly and he’d looked away, embarrassed.

“Do you have your eye on someone, or did you just refuse to answer my question, Frederick?”

Vivien’s voice brought me back to reality.

“What?”

“Never mind,” she said, shrugging. “Who is it? That guy over there?”

I scoffed. “Don’t get any bright ideas, Vivien.”

“Who? Me?” she replied mischievously, then produced a stack of singles and waved them in the air. “Hey! Over here!” she hollered.

The man I knew as my classmate blushed profusely and ignored her, making his way towards the bar.

“Hey! Abs McGee! Come on! What are you, shy?!” Vivien continued yelling.

The manager, or who I assumed was the manager, took notice and approached the guy. How could he not notice? Vivien Fabré wasn’t exactly the world’s quietest woman and when she wanted something, she let the whole world know. I watched the scene at the bar play out in my peripheral vision: an argument. It looked like he was pleading not to have to come over.

“Please stop…” I said. “I know him.”

Vivien’s eyes could have popped out of her skull. “You KNOW him? From where? How do YOU know such a fine piece of ass? I thought gods and mortals didn’t hang in the same circles.”

“Usually not. But he’s in one of my surgery lectures and I really don’t want to have to face him in a place like this. Especially after what happened in the class today because I messed up –“

“Hi, ladies… and gentleman. My name’s Elliot. You, uh, you called me over?”

_Elliot. That’s right. Elliot is his name. I knew that._

As usual, Vivien piped up first. “We sure did! My friend Lana over here is getting married this weekend –“

“Oh, congratulations! So I guess you’re looking for one last hurrah before tying the knot, huh?” Elliot said, addressing the bride-to-be and completely ignoring me. I suppose it was the only way he could think of to turn on the charm.

“Yeah. Yeah. But we called you over to give some attention to this gentleman over here,” Vivien continued, patting my shoulder roughly. “We heard you two know each other.”

“Yeah. …Frederick and I are in the same lecture and demo with Dr. Werner,” he said, giving me a fleeting and furtive look. I bristled. He knew exactly who I was – well, who wouldn’t, after today’s class?

I cleared my throat. This had gone on long enough.

“They’re just yanking your chain,” I grumbled, giving him a sideways glance. “You don’t want to be around here.”

“Actually… I kind of have to stick around now that you’ve called me over. It’s… policy.” Elliot smiled apologetically at me. “I don’t mind. It’s my job. And how could I leave a bride without a dance?”

Lana, the bride-to-be, giggled, then put down her cosmopolitan and, taking a few singles from Vivien’s stack, egged Elliot on. “Alright, babe, let’s make it rain!”

Elliot chuckled and began rolling his hips in her direction. _God, what am I even doing here?_

I found myself embarrassed, but unable to tear my eyes away as my classmate gave Lana a lap dance. My eyes wandered along his half-naked body, taking in every drop of sweat, every toned muscle, every inch of skin… that rounded rear that well-fitting jeans hugged so closely…

“I’ll give you double if you dance for Freddy-boy,” Lana teased. 

Elliot waggled his eyebrows. “Only if you want,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh, he wants,” Vivien chimed in.

“And we want,” Lana added.

I sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll drink it out of my memory later.”

Elliot laughed. “Alright. You asked for it.”

The man I knew as my silent classmate approached me as the song over the loudspeakers changed. I couldn’t help but smirk.

“You like what you see or you just like the song?” Elliot asked, straddling my lap. He’d clearly done this with men before, too, or he just had no issue with it.

“Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me,” I replied.

“Is that an order?”

“It’s the name of the song. It’s all over the radio,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I see.”

“Said the blind man.”

“You got me there.”

Elliot leaned in close, continuing to graze his body over mine, but what came out of his mouth was not what I was expecting. “I get off after I finish with your group, which is basically now. Do you mind if we talk outside in private? I just need to ask you something.”

My jaw loosened, letting my mouth hang slightly open. “Uh… yeah. Sure,” I replied slowly, distracted by the gyrating hips moving against mine.

“Great.”

Elliot stepped away from me, gathering the dollar bills he’d accumulated in his waistband and silently counting them out before folding the stack and shoving it in his pocket. Then, giving me a playful wink, he excused himself from our group.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

“What was that about?” Alana asked, speaking to me directly for the first time all night.

“I don’t know,” I replied, blinking in confusion.

“Oh, bull. You know. What did he whisper in your ear?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Alana,” I said, standing up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go make a phone call.”

Taking my jacket with me, I exited the club, relieved to be free of the constant pounding music in my ears. I leaned against the brick wall, shoving my hands in my pockets, the Baltimore air just a bit too cold for my taste. Looking around, there was no sign of my classmate. Did he just ditch? Did he decide that whatever he had to say wasn’t important enough?

“Oh, there you are,” Elliot said, stepping out of the club. “Sorry for the hold-up. Had to get dressed.” Elliot was now dressed more conservatively, with his usual khakis and a white button up, of which he left the top few buttons undone. A gust of wind blew through the street, causing him to rub his arms for warmth. “Apparently, I didn’t dress well enough, though…” he added.

“I take it you’re not from Baltimore originally, then?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“No, I’m from just outside of South Beach.”

“Florida?”

“Yeah.”

“No wonder you’re freezing.”

Elliot chuckled. “So… about that thing… I was just hoping that we could sort of have a ‘what happens in Vegas’ sort of agreement about this whole situation – what with the strip club and all. It’s not my proudest achievement in life, getting hired as a stripper…”

“If you’re so concerned about other people finding out and you’re so embarrassed about it, why do it?” I asked, if a bit accusingly. If he didn’t want to work at Blue Heaven, surely he didn’t have to. It was a choice, wasn’t it?

“Why do anything? I need the money.”

“For what?”

“Well, considering Johns Hopkins is costing me upwards of 40 thousand dollars and I’ve got student loans pouring out my ass, I’ve taken on two jobs on top of school. In addition to being your friendly neighborhood stripper man, I am also a waiter for all your bourgeois catered events,” he replied, a bitter bite to his voice as he detailed his extracurricular activities to me.

“ _My_ bourgeois catered events?”

Elliot looked me over from head to toe and back again, scrutinizing eyes taking in every inch of me. “Hugo Boss wool jacket and a newly pressed shirt, Calvin Klein slacks – and I’m guessing briefs, too – and what I’m assuming is at least a 60 dollar haircut? Yes. _Your_ bourgeois catered events.”

I grimaced. “You have a good eye…” I grumbled. “Sorry if you dislike that I don’t carry the debt that you do.”

“Look, I just need to know that you aren’t going to go blabbing about my employment here. Can I ask that of you without getting some snide response out of you?”

I chuckled. “Yes. Sorry. It’s a defensive habit. Or at least that’s what the psychology majors tell me.”

Elliot smirked. “Sounds about right.”

A gust of wind blew through the street, causing Elliot to visibly shiver. I sighed, rolling my eyes. “At least invest in a jacket if you’re going to live here, Florida man,” I said, removing my jacket.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing? I can’t take your jacket.”

“Why not? You’ve borrowed my pens before. I fail to see the difference. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’ve got an undershirt on underneath this ‘newly pressed shirt’ of mine,” I said, handing him my jacket. “You live on campus, right?”

“Yeah… why?” Elliot responded, taking my jacket and slipping into it. “…Thanks.”

“It’s nothing. And I ask because, well, I’ve got to take these girls back to campus, too, so if you don’t mind sharing the car with some very drunk young females, preferably without groping them…”

“I’m gay. I can assure you there will be no groping of females, drunk or otherwise, in my near or distant future,” Elliot joked dryly.

I froze momentarily, not expecting that response. “Oh,” I said, blinking in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

Elliot nodded. “Good. It’s nice to hear that kind of response once in a while.”

I checked my watch. “Well, I’d better go collect them. I’ll be right back.”

I reemerged from Blue Heaven with the three girls stumbling in their stocking feet.

“Come on, ladies, you can make it,” Elliot teased.

“Why? You gonna – you gonna help me?” Vivien smiled back drunkenly at him.

“Yeah. Sure,” he replied, going over to her and letting her lean on him for support. He turned to look at me. “Which way to your car?”

“Literally right in front of you,” I replied, nodding at my Jaguar.

Elliot stood, stunned momentarily as he looked my car over. “Wow. Nice. A bit flashy, but… nice.”

“Thank you.”

After helping the three women into the backseat of my car, Elliot climbed in the shotgun seat and I took my place behind the wheel.

“I feel nauseous…” Lana moaned.

“Oh no you don’t! You do not get nauseous in my car! You all promised not to vomit in my car. You swore you wouldn’t,” I said, a bit panicky. Maybe a bit too panicky, because Elliot laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. You. It’s fine. It’s just… god, you’re so jumpy. Like a rabbit.”

I paused before strapping myself in and replying with an embarrassed “Shut up.”

The drive back to campus was, thankfully, uneventful and involved no vomit or excessive drunken tears from any of my female passengers. They clambered out of the car in a particularly unbalanced fashion, leaving no trace of their night out on the town behind, much to my satisfaction.

Which just left Elliot and I.

We sat in silence for a brief moment before he smiled at me. “Thanks for the ride home. And your silence about the whole… stripper thing,” he said, hands clasped in his lap.

“Yeah. Of course. Besides, who would I tell?”

Another pause. I looked at him. He looked at me. 

“I… I should probably get going…” I said, breaking the silence. “I have to go study up on how not to shove a chisel into –“

I was cut off when Elliot’s lips crashed into mine. I let out a muffled yelp, surprised, into the kiss, his warm, soft lips preventing any real noise from escaping mine. Eventually, though, I found myself returning the kiss, one of my hands snaking its way into his light brown hair and the other hand reaching for his waist.

I broke the kiss. “Can I come up to your place?”

“Abso-freaking-lutely.”

I parked my car around the corner from the dormitories and the two of us hurried back around to the entrance. He signed me in quickly as an overnight guest and basically pulled me down the hall to his ground floor apartment.

Pulling me inside, he flicked on the lights and closed the door behind us. His place was nice, if a bit messy, but I didn’t get much time to look it over because he was pulling me on top of him, pressing his back against the wall, urging me to take the lead.

I obliged.

My lips connected with his, my fingers played at his shirt buttons, fumbling to remove it as quickly as possible. My heart pounded in my chest, sending a pool of warmth down to my groin. Elliot ran his fingers through my hair as he kissed me expertly, sucking on my lower lip and intertwining his tongue with mine.

I placed hurried kisses along his neck as I finally got his shirt and my jacket off of him, leaving his toned chest and abs exposed.

“Damn… I’ve wanted to do this all night,” I said, kissing my way down his torso. Elliot let out the sweetest little moan as my lips reached his navel and then just above his groin. I pulled his khakis off of him and he took that time to kick off his shoes as well. I blindly used my toes to slip out of my own while taking his engorged member in one hand, supporting myself with the other, and taking his member’s head into my mouth.

Elliot gasped in pleasure as my lips wrapped around the shaft of his cock and my hand stroked the length my mouth couldn’t accommodate. He gripped my hair in his hand, his breathing becoming shallow and more rapid.

“Frederick… stop. Get undressed,” he managed, scrunching up his face as I continued sucking him off. I did as I was told, finding myself standing stark naked in front of him in just seconds.

“What now?” I asked.

“My turn,” he replied with a wink before dropping to his knees and immediately taking the entire length of my boner into his mouth, running his tongue along the bottom as his head bobbed back and forth. I felt the tip of my cock reaching the back of his throat with every reentry into his mouth. I was in bliss.

“Where – where’d you learn to do that?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair.

Elliot paused only long enough to give me a brief answer. “From the star quarterback of my high school’s football team. He plays pro now, actually,” he said, before returning to servicing my dick.

“Oh? Who is – ah – who is he?”

Elliot paused again and chuckled, wiping spit from his mouth on the back of his hand. “You ask too many questions, Frederick,” he teased, taking both of my hands in his. “Come on. I’ll show you my bedroom.”

Elliot pulled me into the first door in his apartment, shutting it behind himself, then climbing on his bed, getting on all fours. He wiggled his ass in my direction.

I whistled, surveying his perfectly rounded rear.

“You like what you see?” he asked, a mischievous grin gracing his face.

“Very much so,” I replied, following him to the bed. “Do you have a…?”

“Check my nightstand.”

I pulled open the drawer in the nightstand, finding an open box of condoms and a small bottle of lubricant. At least half of the condoms were missing.

“You do this a lot, then?” I asked, ripping one off the line and opening it.

“Not as often as you’d think, but I’m no prude, either… if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied, taking the condom out of my hand and rolling it down my shaft. He gave me a kiss before lying on his back, placing a pillow underneath himself.

I nodded, understanding, as I poured lubricant over my shaft, working it along the length with my free hand. 

I ran the tip of my cock over his hole a few times, teasing him and taking pleasure in watching him shiver in anticipation of what was to come.

“You look so good like that, Elliot,” I purred, smirking down at him. “I can’t wait to hear the sounds you make once I’m inside you.”

Elliot moaned softly, playing with his own nipples and spreading his legs wide for me.

“Please… stop teasing me, Chilton,” he breathed. “Give it to me.”

My smirk widened and I pushed into him slowly, the tightness of his hole enveloping my shaft. We moaned in unison. I began pumping into him, slowly and gently at first, but building speed and force as we both got into it.

I watched as Elliot moved his hands to his cock and balls, fondling the latter and stroking the former with fervor.

“God, Elliot, just the sounds you make… you’re gonna send me over the edge,” I said, wrapping his legs around my waist to bring him in closer as I thrust into him, intensifying the feeling for both of us.

“Oh God… Frederick – I’m gonna cum!” Elliot cried. And indeed he did. White, long spurts of cum shot over his torso as he climaxed hard, causing his anus to contract, milking an orgasm out of me as well.

I moaned his name aloud as I joined him in bliss, blowing my load inside him.

We both stayed in that position for a few moments, breathing hard and drenched in sweat. Elliot smiled that sweet smile of his up at me and I slowly pulled out of him.

“Stay there,” I said, getting up, walking (if a bit unsteadily) towards his bathroom. I could feel Elliot’s eyes on my bare ass as I walked, peeling the used condom off my penis and tossing it in his trashcan.

In the bathroom, I rolled up a thick wad of toilet paper and ran it briefly under hot water in the sink, bringing the warm, damp compress back to the bed with me.

“What are you doing with that?” Elliot asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Cleaning up,” I replied with a chuckle. I climbed on top of him once more, running the compress along his cum-spattered chest and abs, wiping him clean.

“You didn’t have to do that…” Elliot said.

“A simple thank you would have sufficed,” I replied.

Elliot laughed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I laid myself down next to him and got under his covers with him. We stayed there in silence for a bit before Elliot opened his mouth.

“Are you going to stay the night?” he asked. I looked over at him. In that moment, he looked so much more vulnerable than he had ever before.

“If you want,” I replied.

“I’m just used to guys coming and going… if you know what I mean,” he replied slowly. 

I reached an arm over to him and pulled him in close. “I was actually hoping you might want to get breakfast with me in the morning…”

Elliot responded by cuddling closer, resting his head on my chest.

“I’d like that,” he murmured, a sleepy smile growing on his face.


End file.
